When I do interviews on style, there’s one question people always ask me: Is there anything I’d never, ever, ever, EVER wear?
Most of the time, I have a somewhat intelligent answer and I say you should never say never, and that fashion means you should always question your own taste, blah blah blah, but sometimes if I’m pushed a little bit, I’ll say: “Ummm…Uggs?”
So, yeah, Uggs. I say I’d never EVER wear Uggs.
Those weird cartoon boots that make your feet look enormous and end up all deformed like some kind of helium inflated sock. Those hideous winter things that people wear in the summer. Those brownish, post-adolescent uglies that people wear to be like everyone else. Those…
OK, SO LAST WEEK, I BOUGHT A PAIR OF UGGS.
I even waited in line to buy them.
It’s because of my sister, Laetitia.
She warned me. Don’t even try them on, you poor thing. Don’t try them. You’ll never recover.
I was at her house, one gray winter Saturday, and her Uggs were lying around on the ground like two little innocent animals cuddled up taking a nap together, and I just touched them to feel their softness, like you might pet a cat who crossed your path. Right then, a cold draft passed through the room (it must have been the evil spirit of fashion) and before I could even think about it, the Uggs were on my feet.
And then, oh no!
It was as if I had landed on a cloud.
I tried to take them off right away, but I couldn’t do it. Too comfortable.
During my stay at my sister’s, I tried (more or less) to hide my guilty pleasure.
When I was around my sister, I tried to wear them ironically, “hahaha they’re so ugly, it’s hilarious!”
Or I’d steal them when she wasn’t there, even going so far as to find them strangely stylish when I wore them with my gray sweat pants. It was so Californian. And where do I want to go right now? LA. Yeeeah. Oh yeah, definitely.
Then I went back to New York, and I forgot all about them.
Until the month of November, when walking around barefoot or in socks with the plummeting temperatures in the loft Chris and I just moved into just doesn’t work at all anymore. Suddenly, Uggs came rushing back to my imagination. In just one year’s time, they had made a permanent impression on my mind, and it was impossible to get rid of them.
So that’s how, one lovely day, when I was hanging out in SoHo with my surfer friend, Jen, who happens to be the owner of a cool attitude AND a pair of Uggs, I decided to take the leap. That’s all it took. She even warned me: “You’re going to tell everyone that your Hawaiian friend pushed you to buy Uggs! You’re going to make me your alibi, aren’t you? Admit it!”
Jen, it’s all your fault.
Obviously, it was strictly for home. NO ONE is going to convince me to go out in the street wearing Uggs in just one day. Are you crazy?
Anyway. I got a pair of sand colored Uggs because that’s the prettiest color, and because apparently after December, they all go out of stock (it’s crazy how fast they sell! Like hot cakes!). Jen and I actually both bought a pair, and we left the store just as thrilled as if we had found out Ryan Gosling was giving out free massages on the corner.
So obviously, the next day at breakfast, I was proudly displaying my best Californian look — messy hair, over sized sweatshirt, slightly too short shorts and Uggs.
That’s when I got Chris’ final verdict: “Hey, you know what? Uggs are actually…pretty sexy.”
So there you go, what girl wouldn’t want shoes so huge they make her legs look like two Q-tips? Hehehe.
…Followed by an even more surprising comment:
“How do you think they’d look on me?”
I don’t know about you, but I’m actually kind of okay with that thought. Yeah, I know, it’s weird. On that condition: “STRICTLY AT HOME, baby!”
So now, admit it: how many of you own a pair of Uggs?
Translated by Andrea Perdue